Series: Silver Spoon MC Series by Nichole Rose
Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 84(@200wpm)___ 67(@250wpm)___ 56(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 84(@200wpm)___ 67(@250wpm)___ 56(@300wpm)
“We’re lucky to have each other,” Rafe insists. “But I’m still going to spank your ass for keeping this from me.”
“I don’t know if you realize this, but that isn’t a threat.” I laugh.
“You are going to keep me on my toes.” Rafe laughs with me.
Chapter Thirteen
Rafe
I somehow manage to hold on to my temper. “I need to talk to you,” I bark into the phone the second Cash answers.
“Don’t tell me you’re changing the wedding again.” He sighs. “I promised my wife a wedding next week, and I’m going to marry someone. If it isn’t you and Oakley, I’ll have to find someone willing to let me marry them.”
“I’m not joking.” I rub the back of my neck, trying to ease the headache roaring up my spine.
“I’m not either,” Cash returns. “Come on over and we can talk. Hadley, Kyra, and Gloria are busy doing something girly that would make my head explode if I tried to understand it.”
“I’ll be there in a few.” While Grammy and Quin occupy Oakley with last-minute wedding plans, I hop on my bike and rush over to Cash’s house.
“Want a beer?” Cash asks as I rush through the door.
“No,” I tell him. “I have a problem. A real fucking pain in the ass problem.”
I watch the President’s eyes turn stormy as I explain Oakley’s run-in with the motherfucking principal.
“You’re fucking joking.” He slams his hand down on the coffee table. “That is one brave motherfucker,” Cash mumbles under his breath.
“Chris Branson owes us several favors after all the shit his little brother put us through. It’s time for me to give the mayor a call and ask for help with the asshole principal.” Cash sighs. Brady Branson, the mayor’s brother, was the shittiest Prospect we’ve ever had. Brady and his brother neglected to tell us about the Prospect’s past legal trouble, and our standard investigation didn’t pick it up since a small-town judge only listed the warrant locally.
When Sheriff Armstrong came looking for the fucking Prospect, we discovered his past mistakes. The dipshit had started a bar fight that led to the bar being destroyed. His family stepped in, and the lucky bastard was only sentenced to a few days in jail and restitution. In true entitled moron fashion, he skipped town while still owing the bar owner twenty thousand dollars. The judge issued a local warrant for his arrest that was lost in limbo. The county later updated its computer system, reissuing all outstanding warrants nationally. Hence, the sheriff looking for Brady and us discovering the fuck-up. We tried to deal with the little asshole, but he ended up betraying us to an outlaw club. Long story short, the dumbass’ stupidity led to his death. At least we’re pretty sure he’s no longer breathing. No matter what, the little fucker isn’t our problem anymore.
The women come giggling in the door, and Cash signals for me to keep my mouth shut. “Hey, what are you doing over here?” Hadley asks. “And where’s Oakley?”
“She’s at home trying to rein in Grammy and Quin,” I tell her honestly. Last week, Quin tried to buy the fucking dog a pink bowtie to match mine.
“Oh.” Hadley senses the tense atmosphere around us. “Tell her to call me,” she tells me before walking over to kiss her husband. “I’m going to rush through a shower if you want to join me.”
“I’ll let you know what happens with Chris Branson tomorrow.” Cash points at the door. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure it’s the principal, not your woman, who’s unemployed next week.”
I trust Cash to help me. Honestly, my first instinct was to handle this myself, but I didn’t want to spend my wedding day behind bars for murder.
“Thank you,” I tell him before rushing home to my woman. A shared shower is suddenly sounding really good to me.
Chapter Fourteen
Rafe
True to his word, Cash has a talk with Mayor Branson on Monday, and the school board suspends Anton Richardson on Tuesday. Cash and I have a little talk with the asshole on Wednesday.
We’re sitting in Cash’s SUV parked across the street from Richardson’s house way too fucking early in the morning. “Giant says the dumbfuck walks his dog every morning at the same time.”
“Looks like Giant was right.” I point at the front door and watch the sleazy motherfucker walk out holding a leashed dog. His loud, yappy little dog might be a problem, but we planned ahead.
“I’ll deal with the dog. You have five minutes to make your point to dumbass,” Cash tells me. “Just remember my wife will have my ass if we end up in jail,” he calls as I jump out of the SUV.
“Good morning.” I block dipshit Richardson and watch his eyes widen. “I’d like to have a talk with you.”
The tiny furball shows his teeth and growls, but Cash walks up with a piece of meat and lifts it off the ground. He has a way with animals, and within seconds, the dog is eating right out of his hand. Literally.